What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 9) Read online

  “Hey! I’m so glad I caught you,” Carrie Ann babbled anxiously on the other end of the line. “I figured you’d be on your board this morning.”

  “I just walked in from the beach a few minutes ago. How’s set up going?”

  “Great. Actually, I’m not there. I left the other members in charge so I can finish the calendar shoot. Which is why I’m calling,” Carrie Ann spewed in a caffeine-fueled rush of words. As a member of the Advisory Board to the Have a Heart Foundation, Carrie Ann created the Bare Your Soul calendar. “I was thinking, you should come over here and get your hair and makeup done for tonight.”

  Shayla didn’t spend much time on her hair, keeping it all one length and naturally blonde. She dreaded the extra fuss of hair and makeup that came with attending charity events, movie openings and any other red carpet extravaganzas requiring more than a blow-dryer and flat-iron. “Are you sure? That would be awesome!”

  “Ha! I knew you’d be happy. You owe me.” Playful sarcasm filtered through her amusement.

  “Would you prefer your traditional rich creamy vanilla latte or the holiday favorite, pumpkin spice?” Shayla mocked in her best sales pitch voice. “Whip? Or no whip?”

  “No more coffee for me. I’ve drunk enough caffeine to organize three charity events. I’ll be switching to Vodka if my day gets any worse,” Carrie Ann taunted with a grumble.

  “What’s the problem? Too many creative thinking caps in one room?”

  “Something like that. Hurry up and get over here so I can vent in detail.”

  “Try to hold off on the Vodka until after dinner.”

  “Yeah…okay,” Carrie Ann teased doubtfully, her tone sounding calmer already. “Speaking of dinner. What time are you and Mat arriving tonight?”

  “I take it back, I’ll bring the shaker and glasses. Let’s start now.” Shayla’s humor soured and she cleared the agitation from her throat. “I’m flying solo.”

  Silence.

  “Oh boy,” Carrie Ann finally said. “Bring your gown. We’ll go together.”

  Her spirits lifted. “That sounds like a fantastic idea. I’ll be there in a half hour.”

  The extreme beach house Carrie Ann borrowed from her real estate acquaintance for her photo shoot left Shayla speechless as she pulled up to the grand driveway.

  She entered the code Carrie Ann gave her and the regal iron gate creaked open with grandeur slowness. Following directions, she parked her car in the garage and gathered her things. Carrying a small overnight bag and her dress, she stepped into the elevator.

  The doors parted when she reached the ground level.

  “Wow,” she said in astonishment.

  Shayla ventured into the dramatic entrance at a turtle’s pace, taking in the stark modern sophistication of the home. Glass and light filled the house with sunshine, illuminating the art hanging singularly on each white wall. The slapping of her sandals echoed against the bare concrete floors as she cautiously made her way across a bridge floating above a magnificent fish aquarium.

  She peered down into a massive tank filled with vibrant artificial coral and colorful fish. “It’s like an art museum for fish.”

  Familiar voices swept through the house, carried in with a cool moist breeze and the sounds of the crashing surf.

  “Hello?” she called out.

  Carrie Ann peeked in from outside the open doorway at the back of the house. “Pretty cool, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll say.” Shayla scanned over the contemporary sculpture made of scrap metal taking on the shape of a woman standing in the breeze with her hair blowing in long wisps. The large piece encompassed the entire a corner of the living room.

  Carrie Ann greeted her with a quick squeeze. “The private after-party starts right after the gala, but I’m keeping it low key.”

  Her fair skin and pixie cut accentuated the mischievous sparkle in her emerald eyes, but most people only made it as far as her cleavage. She unapologetically embraced her full figured curves in a city known for its paper-thin image.

  “I’ll have to pass. Mat and I have plans.” Heat climbed to her cheeks and Shayla grinned apologetically. She dropped her head back and lifted her hands skyward with fingers extended fully. “Finally! A night alone.”

  “Aw, you poor thing.” Carrie Ann pouted impishly. “You still haven’t gotten laid? What’s it been? Two weeks?”

  “Try almost four!” Shayla opened her eyes wide with painful protest. “He dropped by this morning to give me a pair of earrings to wear tonight. I thought I was going to tackle him right there in the kitchen, but before I could even get my towel off, he left.”

  “I told you. You need to take care of yourself.” Carrie Ann’s wiggled her brows while sliding her fingers down her abs and grabbing hold of her crotch as if she were dirty dancing on MTV. “Pleasure yourself.”

  Her spirit shone as vibrant as her flame red hair.

  Shayla giggled then frowned in frustration. “It’s not the same.”

  Nodding in agreement, Carrie Ann taunted in a prim and proper tone, “Besides, Mathew Huntston would never get down and dirty in the kitchen.”

  A grey seagull swooped down and landed on the terrace, momentarily capturing their attention with a harsh squawking, scavenging for any remnants left behind.

  “What did he gift you this time?” Carrie Ann extended her hand, palm up, fingers wiggling with curiosity. “I know you could care less about material items, but I’d like to get some enjoyment out of Mat’s latest donation to the I’m sorry I fucked up gift box.”

  Shayla did a once around the world eye roll as she rummaged blindly through her bag, handing the box to Carrie Ann. Not bothering to wait for the ooh’s and aah’s, she kicked off her sandals and moseyed onto the terrace perched on a jagged rock cove above the private beach below.

  When Shayla first arrived on her uncle’s doorstep a few weeks after graduating high school, she found it nearly impossible to fit in. There was no shortage of wealth under the glamorous lights of Los Angeles and her famous uncle ranked at the top of the list. Tom Clemmins was an A-list actor with a blockbuster career spanning nearly thirty years, but he still managed modesty. Lavish homes and extravagant cars were as common as the coffee house on every corner. The obsessive strive for the perception of flawlessness made her very uncomfortable.

  The sunshine warmed the terrace beneath her toes as she leaned over the railing and gaped down at the secluded beach below. A natural bend in the outcropping of rocks created a small private beach, restricted from public access on both sides. Tony, a well-known celebrity photographer, climbed the switchback steps notched into the rocks, leaving his tripod and camera equipment set up on the white sand below. His makeup artist/stylist, Rachel, trotted up the stairs behind him.

  Tony’s shoulder length hair, bleached blonde from the California sunshine fell around his face. He glanced up and smiled, tucking the long layers behind his ear. “Hello, sweetheart.”

  “Hey, Tony.” She extended her hand.

  His cool fingers encircled hers with a soft pat.

  “Where is everybody?” Shayla questioned.

  Tony’s mouth opened then closed. A surprised glaze washed over his face and his gaze drifted beyond Shayla.

  Carrie Ann walked up behind her, clearing her throat. “Ummm, we need to talk about that.”

  Shayla’s stare darted between them. Judging by the terrified looks on their faces, she assumed something was wrong. “Oh, man. Did I miss it? Please tell me I don’t have to fix my own hair?”

  Rachel waved hello and buzzed right past, appearing to be on a mission. “No, I’m ready whenever you are, Shayla. I’ll just…wait for you in the hair and makeup salon.”

  “They have a salon?”

  “And a theater and gym too.” Carrie Ann wrapped her arm around Shayla’s shoulder. “I need you to do me a huge favor.”

  Pleading saturated her voice.

  Realizing the severity in her reaction, Shayla narrowed her eyes, “Sur
e. Of course, what do you need?”

  “I need you to bare your soul.”

  Chapter Two

  “Hell no! I am not posing naked for the Bare Your Soul Calendar!” Shayla screeched, shirking away from Carrie Ann’s arm draped over her shoulder, which now felt more like the clutches of entrapment.

  “You won’t be totally naked.” She trotted into the kitchen and returned with a heart-shaped foam board covered in gorgeous crimson satin fabric and a wide airy ribbon tied in a stunning bow. “See! Nothing will be exposed—”

  “You can’t be serious. I won’t pose naked and besides, no one even knows who I am. The calendar is filled each year with celebrities, rock stars,”—Shayla posed like a super model, mimicked a rock star jamming on his guitar then tossed her arms in the air with bent elbows mimicking a field goal—“and athletes! Not people like me!”

  “Oh please! A lot of people know who you are and you’re the epitome of all those people combined. You’re the quintessential poster child for fitness. Hell, you could represent the State of California in one of their campaign ads to attract—”

  Shayla raised her hand. “What happened? Who was supposed to be here?”

  Carrie Ann shot Tony a fleeting glance, obviously searching for any assistance.

  He swiftly dropped his view to the ground, brushing the sand off one bare foot with the other.

  Carrie Ann paused in reluctance.

  “Oh great.” Shayla flopped back onto a lounge sofa big enough for ten people. “Just exactly who are you asking me to replace?”

  “Babs was—”

  “Babs!” Shayla lurched to her feet. “Are you kidding? You’re asking me to fill in for Babs?”

  She clutched her petite breasts then held her hands in front of her chest as if holding two generous watermelons. “That’s—that’s, that’s like comparing Nemo to a whale shark or a Mini Cooper to a stretch limo or like—”

  “I’ve rescheduled this photo shoot three times for her. I knew better than to depend on that bitch, but the other board members outvoted me. That woman is completely unstable!”

  “Are you seriously asking me to fill in for a notorious sex symbol?” Her tummy fluttered with nerves. “She’s a bombshell! A pin up girl! A—”

  “She’s a fucking high maintenance diva, a drama queen! That’s what she is,” Carrie Ann protested, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s not my fault she woke up this morning with one of her best assets flatter than a pancake! It happened yesterday and she didn’t bother calling me until fifteen minutes before she was supposed to be here. Not to mention she was half-lit and crying hysterically, complaining her world had ended. ‘What are all my fans around the world going to say?’”

  Shayla made a painful face, repositioning her hands in front of her chest to the image she now stuck in her head. One perfect bazooka gum bubble at its finest, the other burst in a spatter.

  “It’s okay! Don’t worry, Shayla,” Carrie Ann continued in a rant, hands flailing and head bobbing sassily. “Everything is hunky dory over in Bab’s world. The surgeon is going to replace both her breasts to a new and improved larger implant.”

  Shayla mouthed, bigger?

  “Then she had the nerve to suggest we reschedule the shoot in a few months.” Carrie Ann shook her head and took a deep breath. Tears of frustration filled her eyes.

  Shayla was taken aback. She’d never seen Carrie Ann cry once in the last ten years.

  Carrie Ann befriended her in college, when she moved to Malibu. Their personalities were as diverse as their upbringing. Carrie Ann grew up in Beverly Hills, with neighbors ranging from rock stars to film producers. Shayla was raised in a podunk town in Kentucky where the only thing her neighbors were known for was a good dose of moonshine. Carrie Ann never judged her, and their friendship remained unwavering over the years.

  “Look just hear me out. Please—”

  “Okay.”

  Her friend squinted warily. “Okay?”

  “Yes, all right. I’ll do it.”

  Carrie Ann leapt from the sofa, throwing her arms around Shayla. “Oh, God, thank you! You have no idea how much you’re saving my ass.”

  “You owe me.”

  Tony clasped his hands loudly and entwined his fingers as if his prayers had been answered.

  Shayla pointed her finger at Tony. “No peeking! I don’t want to hear one joke about this, Tony. Not one!”

  She’d known Tony for a few years through social contacts and he’d photographed her uncle more than once, but posing nude in front of him would be one of the most uncomfortable things she’d ever done in her life.

  Tony caressed her arm. Each stroke came with a positive reassurance. “Sweetheart, I’ve seen more ta-ta’s than Hugh. I’m simply happy to get back to work. You’re going to do just fine. I promise to make it as painless and tasteful as possible.”

  “Owe you?” Carrie Ann chimed in, her gratitude already checked at the door as she waved her finger in the air. “I believe we are now officially even. I forget. Who was it that set you up with Mat? Oh, that’s right. Me!”

  A rough bark of laughter from Tony drew her attention. “What?” Shayla insisted.

  “Oh, nothing.” Tony shrugged nonchalantly, but a smug glint of humor gleamed in his eyes. “I just wish I could be the preverbal fly on the wall when you inform Mrs. Huntston you posed nude.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Carrie Ann gave a blunt chop off your head sign to Tony.

  Shayla sucked in a shallow breath. “Shit.”

  She hadn’t considered the ramifications of posing naked for the calendar and what they might cause Mat. His mother would undoubtedly see it as scandalous and a potential threat to her campaign. Her nervousness turned to trepidation. She and Mat had each grown up being controlled by their parents. He reveled in it, living by certain standards and constantly seeking his mother’s approval. Shayla escaped on a Greyhound bus and needed years of therapy.

  “It’s for charity, Shayla. Just think of how much money you’re raising for heart disease.” Her best friend pulled out all the stops. “You’re saving lives. How can she argue with that?”

  “Oh, believe me, she’ll find a way.”

  Shayla emerged from the salon a product of natural radiance. Her skin glistened with a new sun-kissed glow, but her anxiety floundered between awkward and mortification. She had a difficult time controlling her nervous giggles. After thirty minutes posing precariously on a rock on the beach while clasping onto the heart for dear life, Tony called a break.

  He reassured her sweetly, trying to calm her angst. “Relax, sweetheart. You don’t have to frolic in the sand, just let go of your inhibitions. Loosen your stance and stare seductively into the camera.”

  Time ticked by and sun began etching its way beyond the mid afternoon point and he still hadn’t snapped the ideal shot. Agitation wore deep-notched groves between his brows. “This isn’t working. You don’t look comfortable. You’re too uptight, I need you feel natural and at ease, Shayla.”

  “I’m not comfortable! I’m completely out of my element. How the hell am I supposed to look natural when I’ve got sand wedged up my ass and my cheeks hurt from smiling?” She kicked the sand in frustration.

  Rachel came in for another round of spritzing. Her loose wet strands of hair fell around her shoulders and an ocean breeze sent a chill over her arms.

  “I’m usually on a surfboard, Tony. Not naked!”

  His brows rose with new interest. “Carrie Ann!” he shouted.

  She had long since retreated inside. Shayla assumed it was to avoid the catastrophe unfolding in front of her. The Bare Your Soul Calendar was her personal baby and this year marked her five-year anniversary. She poked her head over the balcony. “Yeah?”

  “Go find a surf board! They gotta have a dozen or so lying around this mansion!”

  Moments later, she pranced down the steps, boobs bouncing, surfboard in hand and a hopeful smile beaming across her face. She wedged the tip o
f the board into the soft sand. “Here you go. Great idea.”

  “Now,” Tony demanded with bolstered positive encouragement, “wade out about ten yards, straddle your board and smile.”

  She’d expected him to say, go get um, tiger, as he turned to give her some privacy.

  Rachel held her hand out, taking claim of the red satin prop.

  Shayla’s jaw clenched and her eyes crinkled, shooting daggers at Carrie Ann as she relinquished the heart. “You so owe me. Big time.”

  She gripped the board, lifted her chin, poked her bum out and trotted nude into the surf.

  Rachel followed behind, heart in hand, thigh deep in the frigid November ocean.

  Shayla bobbed up and down on the slow rolling breakers. Five yards is far enough. Her teeth chattered while Rachel applied a fresh coat of lip gloss and dried her hands on a towel she carried slung over her shoulder.

  Adjusting her precarious position, Shayla sat tall on the surfboard. Her nipples constricted so tightly they ached from the cold water.

  Tony stood on the beach fine-tuning his focus through the zoom lens.

  She took a quick sweeping glance downward, her goody box shone plain as day in the afternoon sun. “I’m feeling a little exposed here, Tony!”

  “You look beautiful, sweetheart. That’s perfect.”

  I bet! One more sweetheart out of you and I might just kick you in the shin! She took a deep, cleansing breath followed by another, casting out her modesty and the frosty chill of the cold water.

  “You look hot, Shay!” Carrie Ann shouted her approval, fully clothed from the comfort of the warm sand. “Let’s get the show on the road. We’ve got a gala to get ready for!”

  Sunrays streamed down from the blue sky, heating the curve of her backside and the board beneath her bottom. The wide surfboard lifted her completely out of the water, giving her a very open visual perspective at herself. She felt sexy. Exhilarating pings of stimulation tingled her tummy and below. If it weren’t for Tony watching from the beach, she could’ve embraced this moment. She’d always been comfortable with her body image, but in that precise moment, her vulnerability turned to empowerment. An invigorating feeling of freedom and excitement washed over her.